Prologue

If anyone asked what I was most afraid of, what terrified me, stole my breath, and made my life flicker before my eyes, I would say three little words.

How could my perfect life plummet so far into hell?

How could my love for Brax twist so far into unfixable?

The black musty hood over my head suffocated my thoughts, and I sat with hands bound behind my back. Twine rubbed my wrists with hungry stringed teeth, ready to bleed me dry in this new existence.

Noise.

The cargo door of the airplane opened and footsteps thudded toward us. My senses were dulled, muted by the black hood; my mind ran amok with terror-filled images. Would I be raped? Mutilated? Would I ever see Brax again?

My breath stuttered as power sliced, deep and fast, igniting broken parts of me with sparks. His allure, his power, all magnified to fist around my stomach. In the dark recess of my brain, I translated his words to him being mine. The power trip the little words gave was indescribable.

No wonder he wanted me to say it. I was drunk on them. He was mine. Mine.

What life did Q live, needing to hear such a strong affirmation? What ghosts haunted him?

Q tightened his fingers, biting into my jaw. “Say it.”

With his command, I fumbled into the victim I was, the rape survivor, the slave. The brief sense of ownership left me bereft.

Q twisted my nipple under the wet material of my bra. His cruelty reddened my skin and fight skittered into yielding. He sent me reeling into needful and damaged. I’d been so close to finding strength, but he took it away in an instant.

Fresh tears spilled as I whispered, “Je suis à toi.”

Q sighed heavily, resting his forehead on mine. “Will you run again? Will you leave the one man who wants you above all others? Leave his protection?” His voice wavered with regret, resignation, as if he expected me to run, and already suffered loneliness.

My eyes popped wide; I shook my head. “No, I won’t run again.”

He looked with half-hooded eyes. “How can you be so sure? Don’t I scare you? Repulse you?”

He never repulsed me, and fear where Q was concerned was an aphrodisiac. But I couldn’t tell him. “I will never escape. Je suis à toi.”